I used to have a celebrity crush like that on a game show host when I was thirteen. It was pretty bad.

I
was going to run away to Burbank to be with him— whether he liked it, or not. Sadly, he was arrested
for the murder of his ex-wife, and my dreams were never realized.

Anyway…I understand where these crazy fans are coming from. Luke says they view him as an
obsession, and not a real person. Maybe some of them do—but I think the majority of them…I think that
they’re normal people who just want to be a part of his magic. Because celebrities really are magical and
more special than the rest of us. When you’re around one of them, reality fades away, and rainbows and
glitter fill the sky. True story.

I get done with the housework in record time—mostly to get away from Megan. What I’d really like to
do is go home and take a nap, but then Luke texts me, telling me to meet him at Gilly’s. I bang my
forehead a couple of times against the steering wheel to wake myself up. It works, kind of. Did I mention
that Luke rarely sleeps? This is going to be a long day.

He just better not be drunk.

Chapter 8

Gilly’s is a dumpy brown shingled building. It’s a pretty grungy-looking bar with permanently sticky
tables and chairs—and don’t let me tell you about the floor. But the place always seems to do good, and
is usually filled with a good mix of people. It’s about eleven in the morning, and there’s a decent amount
sitting at the booths, having an early lunch with their beer. A bunch of college age guys are playing pool
in the back; their obnoxious laughter can be heard over the country rock playing over the bar’s speakers.

Luke is sitting at one of the booths, having a beer and a burger. I recognize him by his Yankees cap, but
when he looks up, I get a jolt of surprise. His nose is different—a little bigger and slightly bulbous. His
chin is thicker, and less defined. He bears a vague resemblance to his movie star self—like a less
fortunate cousin. He still looks cute and sexy, but LG is not the first thing that comes to mind when you
first lay eyes on him.

Luke raises his eyebrows and fake-chin nods at me when I plop down on the bench across from him. I
notice that he’s wearing his brown contacts. Without the striking gold-green color to distract you, you
can fully appreciate the rest of his features: the supermodel bone structure, the strong jawline…his
smiling mouth. All that beauty is wasted on him, though. If his job didn’t demand that he paid attention
to his appearance, he would wander around with a beard and ratty clothes all day. And he has the nerve
to bitch at me about how I dress.

“Your grandma’s awesome,” he says after swallowing a massive bite of his burger. “I’ve never had my
ass pinched so much in my life.”

I sink back into the seat, rubbing my forehead. “Please tell me you’re joking,” I groan.

He just grins and grabs his beer. “How did the wedding talk go?”

“It was super,” I say with a bright fake smile. “We’re expected for dinner at six. Does that work for
you?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Luke picks his phone up from the table, and glances at it. “You have plenty of time
to show me around now.”

I steal a thick steak fry from his plate. “Isn’t that what you and Ellen were doing all morning?”

“Are you kidding? That was just a ploy. She took me to this diner where I was ambushed by a bunch of
her friends. I spent most of the morning being flirted with and groped by grabby old ladies.” He
shudders a little. “They did feed me some damn fine pie, though.”

I shake my head, disappointed in Ellen. “She told them who you were?”

“Nah. They just thought I was some hot young piece of meat.” Luke taps his nose. “I told you this
disguise was awesome, right?”
 I can’t help but picture Luke being molested by Ellen and her friends, the old lady claws coming at him
from every direction to pinch, grab, and poke. I try to hide my snickers by turning my head, and putting a
hand over my mouth. He’s not fooled.

“Yeah, ha, ha. You get to make it up to me. Come on; let’s go do the tourist-y stuff.”

I look at him in surprise. “You don’t want to jump off a mountain—or go whale riding, or something?”

“Nope. This is my first real vacation in a long time. I wanna just chill.” Luke grimaces and rubs the side
of his neck. “And my back still kind of hurts from that stunt gone wrong. Man, I must be getting old.”

I regard him suspiciously. “Aren’t you the same guy who tried to water ski with a broken leg?”

He shrugs, baring his toothpaste commercial teeth in a reckless grin. “I’m not as resilient as I used to
be.” He lightly slaps the table in front of me. “Hey, guess what? Georgia—one of Ellen’s friends—owns
the gym right across the street from here. She gave me her spare key and said I can use it any time I
want while I’m in town.”

He leans to one side so he can search his front jeans pocket for the key, which he then pulls out and
dangles in front of me. The key is attached to a keychain shaped like a barbell. I swat at it like a cat. “No
way,” I say. “Do I even want to know what you had to do to get that?”

“What do you mean? I was just my old charming self.” Luke shrugs when I stare at him disbelievingly. “I
already checked the place out. It’s pretty decent. I figure we can go really early, or late at night, yeah? It
closes at eleven.”

Yeah, I’m definitely not getting any sleep while Luke’s here. Sighing almost imperceptibly, I nod my
head and smile. He finishes his burger in two huge bites, throws down a twenty dollar tip, and then he’s
up and running.
 We stop by Ellen’s office to say goodbye. I tell her about dinner, but it turns out she already has plans.
She has a date! Luke jokes that he’s jealous, and Ellen actually blushes while her eyes helplessly crawl
over the hard muscled parts of him—which is pretty much everywhere. You know, it’s not that I’m not
used to his effect on people. These are my people, though, and it’s just not right.

We take Luke’s rental truck and leave my car at Gilly’s. He’s serious about doing the tourist thing. We
walk along the shops across the street from the beach. Luke buys freshly made caramel popcorn, and I
get a waffle cone with cookie dough ice cream—my favorite and Luke’s, too. He steals bites from it,
though I try to keep it out of his reach.

“Hey, let’s go look at the boats,” he says, nodding towards the marina. While I’m distracted, he grabs
my hand with the waffle cone in it and takes a shameless lick off the top.

“Ugh! Just take it,” I growl, thrusting it at him.

“No, it’s more fun this way,” he insists with a laugh.

Damn it, he really is getting into the role of loving boyfriend. It’s kind of freaking me out. I’m used to
having Nate, or one of his other countless friends around as a buffer. Sometimes when it’s just the two
of us, Luke starts to get into this restless pensive mood, and his eyes follow me with heated speculation.
This is usually when he hasn’t had sex in a while (and “a while” is three days for him). I know not to take
it personally. I’m a warm female body, and I’m available. So far, he’s never crossed that physical line
(except for that time in Paris, but he was asleep so I guess it doesn’t count)—but then he’s never
pretended to be my boyfriend before. Yeah, obviously, we don’t have your typical boss/employee
relationship. It’s weird, needy, and kind of twisted but we make it work. This—this is unchartered
territory. I am not comfortable with even pretending to be together like that.

Fortunately Luke doesn’t try to hold my hand, or anything stupid like that. We walk down by the docks
and look at the boats, and then we head up to Hunter Creek Falls to see the waterfall. I make Luke stop
to buy a bag of peanuts so we can feed the squirrels there. Megan, Talon, and I used to do it every time
we went, as do most of the people who visit. Those squirrels are some of the fattest most well-fed
bastards I’ve ever seen.
 I'm actually having a lot of fun. It's kind of strange, but I feel more comfortable hanging out with this
disguised version of Luke. He looks like someone I could meet at college, cute and completely normal.
Not like my famous boss who can’t go out in public without being mobbed by adoring fans. I take a
picture of him covered in squirrels, and send it to Nate—who predictably texts back with a joke about
nuts.

“I’m all out, dude, sorry,” Luke says to the squirrel standing imperiously on his chest. He’s lying on the
grass, propped up on his elbows. The squirrel twitches its fluffy tail and skitters away, making him
chuckle.

“Ivan wants to know the status of your mental state,” I say, looking up from my phone.

Luke locks his hands behind his head and stares up at the bright blue sky. “Tell him I’m feeling very
fragile right now. I may need another month of R and R to recover.”

I text Ivan back with Luke’s answer, and almost before I can hit send, it dings with another text from
him. “He says not to forget your dinner on Thursday with Mark. And pretty please will you do a photo
shoot for JW next week Friday. He swears you’ll be obligation-free for the rest of your vacation after
this.”

“That’s fine,” Luke replies, sounding peaceful and distant as he continues to watch the clouds drift by.

After I’m done relaying the message, I put my phone on silent mode. I want to enjoy nature, too. A
squirrel bites me for not having any peanuts left, and I accidentally kick it. It lands a few feet away,
looking about as embarrassed as a squirrel can possibly look. It scampers away even though I throw the
half a peanut I discovered in my hair at it.

It’s so nice here. We hiked to the top of the waterfall, taking a path that’s technically not a path
because of that fence we had to climb over. That’s okay, though, because we’re alone up here with a
breathtaking and dizzying view of the falls down below. I take several pictures, and then I sit down next
to Luke, plugging my earphones into my phone so I can listen to music while he naps.
 I have to wake him up an hour later, which is a shame because he was sleeping so well. “Luke, wake
up,” I say loudly. “It’s time to go!”

He doesn’t respond when I yell at him, so I lightly thump his chest. Quick as a snake, he grabs my hand,
pulling me down on top of him. I can feel the warmth of his sun-heated skin through his shirt, and the
fast thumping of his heartbeat.

“Damn, Andi,” he grumbles, cracking one eye open at me. “Haven’t you ever heard the one about
letting sleeping actors lie?”

I snatch my hand back. “God knows you need your beauty rest. But we have to go, or we’ll be late for
dinner.” Then I add, “Unless, of course, you’ve changed your mind about going.”

“Mm, not a chance.” Luke groans as he stretches his back out. “Just give me a minute, alright?”

I turn away quickly so he doesn’t see my concerned expression. I feel bad for him sometimes. He looks
so tired right now, both emotionally and physically. Before I met Luke, I never really thought about how
demanding a job it is to be an A-list actor. His lists of obligations are never-ending, and sometimes it
seems like he’s being pulled in a million different directions by people who want a piece of him. Even his
friends. Or maybe, especially them.

“Shit,” he groans again, interrupting my thoughts. “Okay, I’m good. Hey, what time is it?”

I check my phone. “Four-thirty.”

Luke grimaces, jumping lithely to his feet. “We’ll make it.”

We scale the fence unnoticed, and head down the main trail to the parking lot. As we’re going down
the steps, we pass a family who smile and nod at us in greeting. I notice the pretty teenage daughter
give Luke a lingering glance, and a flirtatious smile. There’s admiration, but not a hint of recognition on
her face.

“How come you don’t wear that disguise more often?” I asks him after the family passes out of hearing
range.

Luke shrugs his broad shoulders, looking annoyed. “I have to wear shit on my face all the time when I’m
on camera. I fucking hate it; it itches like hell.”

Oh. Well, why is he wearing it, then? He seemed so excited about it this morning. Actors are so weird,
and don’t let anybody tell you different. They have to be at least a little dysfunctional to do what they
do.

We make it back with time to spare. Luke retreats into the guest house to get ready. I guess he’s all set
up. I wonder what he thought of the mothballs and lavender smell that seems to permeate the air in
there. I stayed in there one night after Nonna Gena’s death—and I swear I saw her ghost hovering over
me as I lay in bed. I wonder if I should warn Luke about her? Nah. Let him be surprised.

It doesn't occur to me to dress up for dinner. It's hot and I'm on vacation, so I wear a sleeveless white
top and jeans shorts. I pull my long hair into a high ponytail instead of the messy bun I usually sport. I
swear I'll start making more of an effort with my appearance. Tomorrow, maybe

I only realize I'm underdressed when I see Luke in the living room. He's wearing a blue Oxford shirt and
khakis. His honey blonde hair is really too short for him to have to worry about, but it looks like he's
styled it the way he does for television interviews, instead of it kind of sticking up haphazardly here and
there. I notice that he still hasn’t shaved, and stubble two shades darker than his hair cover his jaw and
around his mouth.

"What, no disguise tonight?" I call to him as I bound down the stairs.

"Nah. Your family knows who I really am, so why bother?"

 I wonder if he's going to comment on my casual clothes, but he seems to be too busy looking at my
bare legs to care. I want to yell at him to stop staring, but then what if he brings up all the times he’s
caught me—let's go with admiring—his body.

My attention wanders over to a big gold foil wrapped rectangular box. It’s the kind of fancy box that
can only contain long-stemmed roses. Or a sniper rifle. “What’s that?” I ask Luke curiously.

“You said your aunt likes roses, right?” Luke sounds a little anxious as he picks up the box and thrusts it
towards me. “You think she’ll like these?”

It’s surprisingly heavy. I open the top, and gasp. Nestled in sparkly tissue paper are at least two dozen
rainbow-colored long-stemmed roses. “Wow,” I breathe. “Where did you get these from?”

“I made a few phone calls,” he replies like it’s no big deal. “They’re cool, huh? They inject these extracts
that work as a dye into the stem to get them colorful like that.”

“Susan will love them,” I say, looking up at him. “But when did you get them? It took me, like, twenty
minutes to shower and change.”

Luke smirks at me. “Yeah, it’s almost like I have connections, or something.”

“Yeah, with the devil,” I mutter, closing the box and handing it back to him. “Are you ready to go? Do
you want to take my car, or the truck?”

“Your car is fine.”

Luke fidgets so much doing the drive there that I almost run us off the road in irritation. He keeps
shifting his long legs, running a hand through his hair, or tugging at his shirt collar. If I had a squirt bottle,
I would spray him right in the face the way my mom used to do when our old cat, Turtle, would jump up
on the kitchen counter.

“What is wrong with you?” I ask when his knee bumps into mine for the fifth time. “Do you have to
pee, or something?”

“No, Mom, I went before we got in the car,” he replies sarcastically. Then he lifts his shoulders in an
uncomfortable shrug. “I’m just…I hope your family likes me.”

The car swerves slightly as I turn to give him an incredulous look. “Luke, you had dinner with the
president of the United States—and you’re worried about meeting my relatives?”

“I just want to make a good impression,” he says, looking out the passenger window. “I’m supposed to
be your boyfriend, remember?”

I hold back a snort. “You could spit in their faces—and they’d probably try to bottle it up so they can
worship it later. Well, Megan would, at least. I don’t know what my aunt and uncle would do.”

“I’ll try to refrain from spitting at them, then,” Luke mutters drily.

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best.”

All too soon, we arrive at the house. I park my car at the curb, and reluctantly get out. Luke leans
against the car door, waiting for me to come around. He seems to have calmed down somewhat. He
grabs the flower box from the backseat, and we start up the walk to the front door.

I jump a little when he grabs for my hand. “Easy,” he murmurs, tightening his grasp when I try to pull
away from him. “We’re supposed to be a couple, remember? Couples hold hands.”
 “Not us.” I struggle to get my hand back—not just because it makes me uncomfortable. My hands are
always cold and clammy, and I really don’t want him to know that.

“Andi,” Luke growls under his breath as I start leaning all my weight away from him, like a naughty little
kid trying to get away from her parent. “Stop it.”

And now my hand is sweaty. Luke loses his grip on me, and I fall sideways, landing in the bushes. I
quickly scramble to my feet to see Uncle Charlie standing in the open doorway, staring at me in concern.

This is not going to go well.

Chapter 9

As soon as we step foot into the house, nervous Luke transforms back into his usual charming and laid
back movie star self. He works hard to put my star struck kin at ease. Just one of his many talents. Luke
has the ability to get along with anyone when he wants to. I think that’s why so many people think that
they’re his close friends, when in truth, they don’t really know him.

Anyway, I’m the one who suddenly turns into a nervous wreck. We settle in the living room before
dinner, with me and Luke sharing the loveseat, and everyone else is just kind of gathered around, staring
at us. I should have prepped Luke beforehand on all the lies I’ve already told everyone. Fortunately, he’s
an award-winning actor, so he barely blinks when Uncle Charlie casually mentions my affiliation with the
CIA.